


berries and charcoal

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Jaskier Wears Makeup, M/M, bc why the fuck not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22639300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Yennefer puts makeup on Jaskier and Geralt loves it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 640





	berries and charcoal

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: queermight  
> tumblr: korrmin

Jaskier showed up at Yennefer’s room one night, a determined set to his jaw. “I hate to admit this, but I actually kind of respect you.”

She looked up from where she was staring into her mirror, applying crushed berries to her plump lips. “Wow, I’m _moved_ ,” she drawled dryly. “Please do go on.”

Jaskier groaned like it was physically paining him to be here, admitting his respect for the sorceress. “Just let me finish, okay?”

She raised a dark eyebrow and, with a lazy flick of her wrist, closed the door with a short burst of magic, giving them privacy. Jaskier smiled tightly as he walked over and sat on the edge of Yennefer’s bed.

“So, you saved my life and, like, I actually think your stubbornness is kind of respectable, and I _know_ now that a lot of my anger toward you was founded in unfair jealously and - ”

Yennefer turned in her chair, facing him with an amused smirk. “ _Breathe_ , Jaskier,” she interrupted. “What are you talking about?”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. “I was jealous of you,” he said, speaking slow, “because you had Geralt’s heart and I didn’t.”

Yennefer seemed visibly taken back by the confession. “Wow,” she said finally. “I never thought you’d actually have it in you to be honest with yourself.”

Jaskier looked scandalized. “What? You _knew_?”

“Hmm, no,” she answered simply, turning back to the mirror, “but I had my suspicions.”

Jaskier blinked once. “Okay, well,” he cleared his throat and roughly brushed some hair out of his face. “Don’t you want to know _why_ I’m telling you this?”

Yennefer shrugged. “Well, I’m assuming you’re going to tell me regardless of my answer, so.” She gestured for him to go on.

“I want to tell him how I feel,” he said.

Yennefer’s head snapped in his direction. “Really?” she asked. “I’m impressed.”

Jaskier shrugged, looking down and fidgeting with his hands. “I know he probably won’t feel the same. But I’m prepared for that.” He looked up, gulping. “I would rather try and fail than not try at all.”

Yennefer watched him for a long, silent moment. “Working on a new song?” she asked, light and teasing.

He shook his head. “Not exactly. Anyway, um, the reason I’m telling you all this is because I _respect_ you and - and I want you to know what I’m planning to do.”

Yennefer hmmed, fixing her lipstick with a finger. “That’s sweet,” she said, “but you didn’t have to.”

Jaskier startled. “But I - I thought - ”

“Jaskier, I am no longer interested in _your_ man,” she said, smirking at Jaskier’s face, wide-eyed and sputtering. “All I mean is, you can have him. Frankly, you two would probably make a better match.”

“Is this about the Djinn?” he asked, an odd tilt to his voice. “You know he was just trying to - ”

Yennefer turned in her chair again. “It’s not just about that,” she said sharply. “Jaskier, I don’t think Geralt and I _work_. In short douses, perhaps, but long term… I don’t see how we would work. Whenever we meet, we spend most of the time fucking like rabbits with little regard to anything else.”

She saw a light flush on Jaskier’s cheeks and snorted.

“Which is _nice_ ,” she continued with a smirk, “but not a good foundation for a lasting relationship.”

Jaskier nodded slowly, looking dumb. “So… okay. There’s nothing stopping me.” He almost sounded disappointed, but Yennefer saw it what for it was: nerves. “ _Fuck_.”

“Poor baby,” she cooed as she stood up and walked over. “How about I help you?” she asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Jaskier stared up at her, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “How?” he asked, eyeing her skeptically.

“Hmm,” Yennefer reached out and gently brushed her thumb across Jaskier’s cheek. “I can make you a masterpiece,” she said, vague as fuck. “Geralt won’t know what hit him.” She looked down her nose at him. “Trust me.”

Jaskier pressed his lips together, tight. “Okay,” he sighed. “Fuck, okay. Don’t make me regret this, Yennefer.”

She winked. “Oh, you won’t,” she assured him, patting his arm. “Now get up and go sit in my chair. I’ll be right back.”

Jaskier stood up. “Where are you going?” he asked, unable to help himself.

Yennefer grinned wickedly. “I need more berries,” she said simply.

-

Yennefer returned with a bowl of berries and walked over, standing behind a very nervous Jaskier. He was thrumming his fingers against his thighs, a nervous habit. “Don’t be so scared,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to do anything you can’t take off if you hate it.”

“Okay, I’ve got to be reading this situation wrong,” he said, “because you’re not seriously about to put _makeup_ on _me_ , right?”

Yennefer patted the top of his head. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, darling.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes this time and leaned back in the chair upon Yennefer’s request. She crushed the berries, obviously experienced, and dipped one of her fingers in them.

“Why would _Geralt_ care if I have berries on my lips or not?” he asked, and she frowned disapprovingly.

“Stop talking,” she chided, “or I’ll fuck up.”

Jaskier sighed dramatically but nodded, lightly parting his lips upon request. Yennefer smiled and pressed her finger to his lips, gently smearing the berries across them.

He could taste them, smell them. It was kind of unexpectedly nice.

“There,” she said with a shit-eating grin. “Finished.”

Jaskier went to lift his head but she stopped him, a hand on his chest.

“Not yet,” she said. “We have more to do.”

Jaskier couldn’t fight a grin of his own. The whole situation was just so ridiculous. He was sure he’d look like an idiot in the end but like Yennefer said it wasn’t anything he couldn’t wipe off.

Yennefer grabbed another bowl and he saw black powder in it. Charcoal, likely, like what she used on her own eyes.

“Close your eyes,” she hummed as she dipped a finger in the charcoal and lifted her hand, gently spreading the dark powder across his eyelids. “Okay, open.”

He opened his eyes and she applied a few finishing touches before she stepped back, admiring her work.

“So?” he asked with a smirk. “Am I pretty?”

Yennefer smiled, surprisingly sincere, as she placed the bowl down. “I don’t know,” she said. “Why don’t you look and tell _me_?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes as he lifted his head and peered into the mirror. His breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it. He looked… _good_.

The black charcoal brought out his blue eyes, made them even more striking, and his lips looked more plump with the berries smeared across them. Jaskier was at a loss for words.

“Nice, isn’t it?” he heard, and he looked over at Yennefer, who was wearing that shit-eating grin again, looking _way_ too pleased with herself. “If Geralt sees you like this, there’s no way he won’t jump your scrawny little bones.”

He gulped. “Not scrawny,” he argued weakly, heart thumping loudly.

Yennefer reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. “You should let me do something with this, too,” she said.

Jaskier didn’t answer for a long moment and she pulled her hands back.

“Jaskier,” she said, uncharacteristically soft. “You don’t actually _have_ to wear any of this,” she said. “I’m sorry if I’m - ”

He looked up. “No, no, I’m just - speechless,” he admitted sheepishly, “but in a good way, I think.” He shook his head and leaned his head back. “Do whatever you want; my life is in your hands.”

Yennefer snorted and dug her fingers back in his hair. “Okay, well - ”

-

Yennefer worked on his hair for a bit. “Okay,” she said finally. “Finished.”

He sat up and peered into the mirror. She had added a ton of little braids, flowers interwoven, in his hair. It was… feminine, no doubt, but actually Jaskier liked it even more than the berries and charcoal.

He barely realized he was smiling until Yennefer poked his cheek. “I’m assuming that’s a good sign,” she drawled.

“I like them, uh, a lot,” he admitted a little sheepishly. “Is that - is that _weird_?” he asked before he could think better of it.

Yennefer hmmed. “No,” she answered. “Braids are cute; you’d be dumb _not_ to like them,” she said with an air of finality.

Jaskier laughed softly. “Okay, well.” He stood up, never taking his eyes off his own reflection, still a little shocked by it. “I - I guess there’s no putting off the inevitable anymore.”

He liked the braids and the makeup wasn’t so bad, but he couldn’t help thinking Geralt might not feel the same way. He might even _laugh at him,_ as he was prone to do, and he wasn’t sure he could handle that. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he walked to the door, Yennefer following after him.

“Wait,” she said at the last second.

Jaskier turned to look at her. “Listen, I draw my limits at a dress - ”

She smacked his arm. “Oh, shut it,” she said. “I was going to wish you luck.”

Jaskier blinked once, surprised but also not. “Thank you, Yennefer.”

She rolled her eyes, entirely fond, before opening the door. “Go,” she said with a wicked grin. “Blow his mind… among other things.”

-

Jaskier walked to Geralt’s room slowly. The halls were long, lavishly decorated, and not for the first time Jaskier envied Yennefer’s abilities at being able to wrap royalty around her finger with a spritz of magic.

He glanced in every mirror he passed, feeling more and more insecure.

He looked _good_. Yennefer was right, and he liked how he looked. But that part of him, that part that always thought he’d never be good enough for Geralt, was being especially loud.

Jaskier stopped in front of a door and hesitated.

He almost thought about turning and walking away because then he’d be wasting Yennefer’s effort and he couldn’t do that. So taking a deep breath, he knocked.

“Come in,” he heard Geralt call from the other side of the door.

Jaskier gulped and opened the door, which creaked annoyingly. Geralt was sitting on his bed, cleaning his sword. His heart leaped at the sight. He looked most beautiful like this, relaxed and in his own element.

“Yen - ” he started, looking up, and stopped when he saw Jaskier.

Jaskier’s heart leaped again, right into his throat, lodging itself there. He watched Geralt’s face, every small twitch.

“Jaskier,” he said, putting his sword aside, never taking his eyes off the bard.

“That is, indeed, my name,” he replied sheepishly. His brain felt like mush.

Geralt stood up and approached him, slow heavy steps. Jaskier’s palms were sweaty. Geralt stopped in front of him. “You’re…” he paused, eyes flickering to his mouth and back up to his eyes. “You’re wearing _makeup_.” His eyes moved up to Jaskier’s hair. “And there’s _flowers_ in your hair.”

“Nothing ever gets past your keen senses, dear Witcher,” he replied on autopilot.

Geralt hmmed. “Why?”

Jaskier smiled, a little forced, his heart choking him in his throat. “Um, well. I - I went to visit Yennefer and she, uh - thought it’d be a good idea?” he said, a little squeaky. “Because I told her I - I needed to tell you something.”

“Me?” he asked, an odd tilt to his voice. “What is it?”

Jaskier noticed Geralt was staring at his mouth again and _that_ was new. He nervously licked his lips, tasted the sharp tang of berries. “Perhaps we should sit down,” he suggested, gesturing blindly behind Geralt.

“Bard,” he said, evenly. Jaskier looked into Geralt’s eyes. “Spit it out.”

Jaskier gulped around the lump in his throat. Geralt’s eyes were dark, watching him closely. He didn’t know yet if that was a good sign or not. “Words are so complicated,” he breathed, meaning it. He was a bard; he should know. “Could I…” Jaskier thought back on Yennefer’s support and decided fuck it; he placed a hand on Geralt’s chest. “Can I _show_ you?”

Geralt’s eyes flickered down to his hand. He hmmed. “Jaskier,” he said, deep with emotion. Jaskier’s skin prickled. Geralt looked up. “Okay.”

Without thinking too much about it, he lurched forward and kissed him.

Jaskier expected a lot of reactions - a punch to the face being top of the list, probably. Their relationship had improved a lot, no doubt: Geralt no longer pushed him away, not like he did on the mountain. He respected him more, protected him, always considered him when making plans. He’d even complimented his voice once. He’d been drunk, but still.

So he knew Geralt _liked_ him. He openly called them friends now to new faces, old faces. But none of that implied Geralt had any _feelings_ for him.

Jaskier had known, maybe from the beginning, this is where they’d end up. He’d seen Geralt in that corner and felt something warm uncurl in the pit of his stomach, pulling him toward the Witcher.

And while Geralt could be a bastard, like his outburst on the mountain, he was also a surprisingly good man. He cared for others almost too much, protected innocents with everything he had. Once Jaskier had even seen him give a few of his coins to a homeless man when he thought no one was looking and perhaps it was that moment Jaskier realized with stark clarity that he was in love with Geralt of Rivia. A complicated, complex man who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Geralt pulled back and Jaskier prepared for the worst.

“Jaskier,” he said, and the odd tilt in his voice was back. “Why did you kiss me?”

Jaskier almost laughed. He was pretty sure it was closer to a sob. “You’re not an idiot, Geralt,” he replied. “You know why.”

“Hmm,” was Geralt’s comforting reply.

Jaskier stared at him. He was scared, the most scared he’d ever been, but he wasn’t backing down.

“How long?” he asked gruffly, and Jaskier hadn’t been expecting that.

He cleared his throat, staring at Geralt’s lips, a little slick from their kiss. Heat pooled in his gut. “Honestly, I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “I mean, it was little things that stacked up but I think I always knew it’d be you, in the end.”

“Interesting,” was his reply and fuck, was Geralt _trying_ to break his heart?

“Geralt,” he said, taking a step back. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way,” he said, heart thumping loudly. “I don’t even want you to entertain my feelings out of some kind of - of _politeness_ ,” because while most people would never use the word polite to describe a Witcher, Jaskier knew better. “I just thought it was only right you knew, even if I know you still have feelings for Yennefer.”

He held his head high even though he felt like sticking his head in the sand.

“Why do you think that?” he asked after a long, torturous moment.

Jaskier’s shoulders slumped. “What?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Why do you think I have feelings for Yen?” he asked slowly.

Jaskier stared at him like he was crazy. “Because you do?” he replied, voice a little squeaky. “I mean, that’s the grand love story, right?” he extended his arms with flair. “The Witcher falls in love with the beautiful sorceress and it’s a big game of cat and mouse that ends with - ”

Geralt reached out, gripping the back of his neck. Jaskier shut up instantly.

“Bard,” he said, low, “when was the last time I visited Yennefer during the night?”

Jaskier blinked. When they’d first started staying with Yennefer, on and off, Geralt would disappear to Yennefer’s room almost nightly. Jaskier only knew because usually his room was on the way and he would hear Geralt’s footsteps late into the night and each time his stomach would lurch painfully. He’d bury his face in a pillow, biting it, and jerk off, feeling completely drained afterwards.

Not that he thought about it, it had been months, maybe almost a year.

“Um,” he said lamely. “I don’t understand.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes, squeezing the back of Jaskier’s neck. “But I thought you said you spoke to Yen,” he said. “Didn’t she tell you?”

Jaskier realized then that he’d been played like a lute. He almost laughed, feeling something uncurl in his stomach. “Yennefer?” he repeated in disbelief. “You’re - you’re telling me she _knew_?”

“About my feelings for you, yes,” he replied blandly. “I told her.”

Jaskier laughed. “Your feelings for me?” he repeated, nearly lightheaded with the information. Geralt not only reciprocated his feelings but he’d confided in Yennefer about them. Fuck. He was at a loss for words. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed, full of emotion. Actually wait he did have a few words, “that fucking bitch.”

Geralt snorted, squeezing the back of his neck lightly. He eyed Jaskier’s mouth with an almost-smirk. “Can’t say she didn’t know what she was doing.”

Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh?”

“ _Oh_ ,” he repeated, light and teasing. He leaned in, pausing for a second with their lips just inches apart. “You look fucking incredible, Jaskier,” he breathed against his lips. “Gods, I want to _ruin_ you.”

Jaskier gulped. He wanted that, too, more than air itself. “What’s stopping you?” he whispered, staring into Geralt’s eyes. He licked his lips, slow. “Certainly not me.”

Geralt growled, low in his throat, and slammed their lips together, teeth clanking. It was one of the worst kisses Jaskier had ever had while simultaneously being the best. He wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck and tugged him closer, licking into his mouth.

He tasted berries and _Geralt_. A perfect mix.

Geralt reached down, cupping his ass, and Jaskier moaned against his lips.

“Fuck,” he growled, pulling back and pressing their foreheads together. Jaskier’s lipstick had been smeared across his face, making a mess. Geralt nipped at his bottom lip. “So fucking - ” he pulled on his bottom lip his teeth “ - _hot_.”

Geralt didn’t look much better; his lips were stained red from their kissing.

“I - I think we should, um - ” Jaskier gestured blindly at the bed, eyes never leaving Geralt’s face. He didn’t want to miss a moment of this.

Geralt smirked. “Good idea,” he agreed.

It was only when Geralt was on top of him, _buried_ inside him, that Jaskier thought he should really thank Yennefer for her services.


End file.
